What was scary for me, pre-testosterone, was the feeling that I was aging in a body that had never “blossomed” fully. That I was growing older before I’d ever been born, or really lived. That feeling, which had plagued me since I turned about 25, disappeared within a month or two of starting T.
Testosterone isn’t like a bucket of chemicals upended over you, that change your meat suit and leave you even more confused inside. Testosterone slowly changes your inside, too, and all the parts that feel like they’re jangling discordantly now often start to harmonize better.
I think when I conceptualized transition, I pictured it as moving from the adult woman I’d been, into an adult man. But it’s like I got dropped from adult womanhood to boyhood, and it was weird but fun. It’s like an accelerated growing-up as a guy.
I haven’t become any less weird. It’s just easier now to express it the way it really wants to be expressed. I’m queer now because I’m queer, not because I’m a collection of contradictions.
I feel so much better about getting older now. I still can’t picture myself as an old man, I think that’s hard for any human to imagine. But I will be me, not my father or my grandfather, or some generic “old man”.
It’s been interesting to finally experience aging as natural, and not a barely-staved-off disaster. Like I’m actually on a human life track, no floating in some clueless limbo. And it excites me to think I may actually experience what people mean when they talk about being “in your prime”. That it might still be ahead of me, at least in the ways I find most important. I feel like I won the hormone lottery.